Escape Your Fate
by Joja Rodena Lente
Summary: What happens when two people get married for the wrong reasons? What happens when things become too much, and one must spend her life running, looking for safety? What if a life is lived without planning?
1. Chapter I He

**I** _He_

I don't remember exactly what it was I thought when I saw her that day. She looked shy, hidden behind her sky-blue eyes. It was then I first realized how blue they actually were. I had heard my brother speak of her eyes before, but in opposition to his denied but obviously present fascination for them, her eyes slightly frightened me. They made me think I would never be able to get through her. And I think that was true. At least partly.

I looked at her that day knowing I would marry her. It seemed strange to me that I didn't love her, even though I knew she didn't love me either. Still it was for the best. At least that's what we had been told by our fathers, and the quiet, troubled teenager I was back then didn't see any reason for protest.

The problem wasn't that I had no affection for her. I did. We were quite good friends, and we trusted each other. I just never thought of her as the one I would get married to.

The problem also wasn't in the way she looked when she walked down the aisle a few years later. She was beautiful. She looked perfect in a dress. I couldn't remember having seen her in a dress before, and it fascinated me. But it was not the way I could ever have pictured her. Something deep inside me told me it might have been wrong. But I couldn't go back, and rationally I didn't see why I'd wanna go back. So I stopped listening. And married her. And made her the unhappiest woman alive. But I didn't realize that back then.

In the first months of our marriage, the choice of our parents seemed to have the predicted advantages. Of course I realized that those advantages were mostly good for our fathers' banking accounts, but I was young and insecure and just married a woman I didn't love, but desperately wanted to give a happy life, and therefore I closed my eyes for it and let it happen.

She was very strong, I must admit that. I can't describe what it felt like having sex with her. It was mostly like sleeping with a good friend in a drunk night. The only thing that didn't match was that I wasn't drunk. It was emotionless, which made it emotional. We both knew it probably wasn't right, and that we were hurting each other. But we did it because we were supposed to. And eventually we got used to it and the pain faded away. At least a little bit.

Everything went the way I knew it would go. When she got pregnant I didn't feel anything aside from a feeling of responsibility. Feeling shameful, I had to admit it was a responsibility I wasn't prepared to have, and actually didn't want to have.

During her pregnancy practically all she did was sit at the window and stare outside, or at her own body she knew held a life of which she wasn't sure it was meant to be born. What I have learned from her is that she was stronger than I could have imagined. She got pregnancy complications. She suffered a huge amount of pain, physically, but during the time she spent in hospital thinking of the child she owed so much guilt to, also mentally. Several times she nearly lost the baby, and I knew that every time she thought it was dead, she felt a forbidden kind of relief. Something she showed herself no mercy for.

But she carried her burden alone. In silence.

When after a dangerous long time our daughter was born, the feelings I had were the first surprise since we got married. When I saw her I felt a strange kind of love, for the baby but also for my wife. It took me a while to realize that this was my child I was holding, my flesh and blood. A life that I created with another human being. Our daughter created a bond between me and my wife, and that was for the very first time. But it wasn't a husband-and-wife kind of bond. It was the bond that was needed for our daughter to spend her first years in peace and safety.

For outsiders our married life looked just the way a married couple should look. The people who knew it was arranged and coped with lack of any love, sexual affection or passionate moments, shut their eyes and looked down when they saw us. Nobody wanted to know. In that period of time we learned that in our lives, in fact everyone was a liar. But most of all we learned that the worst liars we knew, were the liars we had made of ourselves.

Sometimes, when I'm unable to sleep, these scenes still play in my head, and the old feelings return to my mind. Like now, when I look aside and see the stars through the window, or when I stop breathing for a while just to hear the sound of my loved one sleeping. I realize I am happy now. She's been gone for a long time, and the feelings of guilt stay in the background most of the time. But sometimes, even though it's long ago, I still think of her. And then I wonder where she is, and if she's happy. Because if anyone deserves to be happy, it would be her.


	2. Chapter II She

**II. **_She_

I don't remember being happy. My life started on a farm, working with only my father and the animals to talk to. When I woke up in the morning, I would open my eyes and see the wooden ceiling, and right now I don't think I've ever seen a sight that felt so safe. I don't think I could find that anywhere else, not even if it looked the same. It wouldn't feel the same. That feeling of safety I will always carry with me. As a memory.

But happiness… true happiness. That's not the right word to describe my earliest memories of life. I remember my mother passing away, taking my baby brother with her. When I was young I always felt like it was his fault my mother was dead. But that's just way children think. Sometimes I wish I still had that simplicity of mind. I could have easily blamed all my trouble on someone I'd never known, and it would be over. At least I wouldn't blame myself the way I do now.

There's no worse thing in life than having yourself against you. I can easily fight others, sort out my own battles with the outside world. But I can't fight battles with myself well. It feels like a circle. I relief myself by hurting myself. It just doesn't work.

I would feel better if at least my baby girl was happy. But all the travelling… it just breaks her up. I can't help the fact I have to move all the time. I had a home once. Having lost it made me a wanderer. I can't stay around the same people for too long. They'll remind me of home with the way they're not like home at all. And it hurts me, and I run. Taking my daughter with me, away from home. Again.

She's six years old now, but wise. She knows how to make friends, but also how to fight battles. A few weeks ago, not for the first time, she came home covered in mud, with a black eye. It shocked me and I was prepared to comfort her, but she shook me off saying it didn't hurt. I felt awful not being needed by my own daughter. At least not in that way.

Sometimes I still feel like I should've stayed. Maybe she would've been happy then. At least she wouldn't be dragged around by her mother who has no roots. But then again, I know it wouldn't have worked. It didn't last because it wasn't supposed to. But the way I ran has left a permanent impression on my mind, and it won't be taken away easily.

The last time we stayed somewhere for a quite large amount of time, I left because I chose to. I left my home because I was chased away, and even though I told myself it wouldn't break me down, it has traumatized me beyond belief. I realize I'm still young. I must've been a kid when I got married. Counting back, I know I was twenty one when I married him. Twenty two when our daughter was born. Twenty four when I left. Twenty eight now. Maybe some other woman my age is sleeping next to her lover, dreaming of the life that's still in front of her. I dream of the life in front of me as well. But what I see in my dreams can be considered nightmares.

Maybe my daughter is dreaming as well. I know it's not probable for a six year old to think of the future, but if she does I fear for the worst. How can she have a future perspective if she doesn't even have a steady home? I know she probably isn't thinking that way now. But when she starts, I know she'll know that others don't move around all the time. And she'll hate me. Until that day I want to hold her. But even now she won't let me.

I hope that one day she'll understand what it is that's haunting me, that's making me walk, run, never stay anywhere long. But I know she won't. Neither do I.

The day I left home was the first day I ever longed for my mother. I was afraid, sleeping in one bed with my little girl, holding her tightly to protect her from anything that might hurt her. Knowing that the only one who would probably hurt her was me.

I thought of my mother, of the little things I remember about her. I remember her smell. I remember the way she comforted me when I had hurt myself. But that's all. And that night I wished she was with me, and I was back to the three year old I was back then. That's me. Always looking for the impossible, leaving when I don't find it. Knowing it's useless, but pushing that thought away because if I accept that, my purpose in life will be gone. And I wouldn't know what to do.

But right now, all I want to think of is how to start tomorrow. We found a house in a new town, again. I know we probably won't stay, because I never stay. But for now it's okay. Laying between our blankets in the still empty bedroom with my little girl, my eyes wander off to the stars. And I wonder how long it would take to reach them.


End file.
